Tales of a Lamp
by Jaytyr
Summary: The dragonfly lamp in Giles's house never dies. It's even seen in Firefly for one episode. I figure it must have seen a lot of things in its day. Stories about Giles and the people surrounding him. Mostly GilesEthan slash.
1. The Beginning

The Beginning

A series of lamps lights the window of the tiny shop in South Hampton. Colorful shades and bulbs cast an eclectic glow over the cobbled street as a group of teenagers walked by.

"What are we doing here, Ripper?" a dark hair boy asks petulantly.

"We have a new place, we need new things. The apartment's dismal; a lamp will do it good," a tall, brown haired boy replies haughtily, shifting the slightly oversized leather jacket over his broad shoulders. The dark haired boy snorts.

"I'll bloody conjure something. We don't need to _buy_ anything. At the very least, steal one!"

"Oh, shut up, Ethan. Just because we went with my pick of a hideout instead of yours doesn't mean that you have to be such a brat," a messy-haired blonde girl crosses her arms and glares. Her dark kohl makes her eyes standout garishly.

"Oh shut up, Deirdre, my place was much better! Yours is so posh, we'll be evicted in no time," Ethan sulks.

"It's nicer, but I don't think the neighborhood is nice enough for anyone to care if we summon a few demons," an olive skinned boy says, stepping between the other two. Ethan rolls his dark eyes, a pout on his pixy-like face.

"At least you get to share a room with Ripper," the final boy in the group laughs, nudging the sorcerer.

"A small consolation, I'm sure," Deirdre snickers, ignoring Ethan's glare, "It's a good thing Philip and Randall have some sense, or the three of us would never stop fighting."

"You and Ethan don't stop fighting," Ripper says absently, staring at the lamps in the window, "That one." He points at a green, brown, and purple lamp depicting dragonflies.

"Kind of a girly choice, don't you think, Ripper?" Ethan asks.

"I like it. It has a certain ethereal feel, as if it's special," Deirdre says.

"It's ours then," Ripper says, lifting his fist.


	2. Romance

AN: Oops, I forgot my disclaimer on the last chappy. I'll up date this as I write them, so don't expect any sort of regularity. Each chapter is a stand-alone one-shot, and I hope to have them in chronological order. Note: THIS IS SLASH!!!!! It may not be just Ethan/RipperGiles either. I'll put stuff in as I will, since I'm the author and I can. There will be some het (for example, Buffy's straight, and I really can't see her with a woman). Please don't flame me. If you happen to like a particular pairing, tell me. I always like new (and especially unusual) pairings.

Again, THIS IS SLASH!

Disclaimer: Joss owns it all, to my great misfortune. Believe me, if I owned the Buffyverse, Wes and Gunn would be together, as would Giles and Ethan. If that ever happens, I may just die from happiness. This disclaimer holds true for this entire story, in case I forget on another chappy.

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"Damn it Ripper! It's time to go!" Ethan called to his friend one evening.

"Just a minute, Ethan, I just need to finish this paragraph," Rupert Giles replied absently, not looking up from the old, musty tome.

"We're going to be late, and I'm not getting yelled by Deirdre again. She never seems to believe that you're the one at fault," the chaos mage huffs.

"Getting beat up by a girl, Ethan? I knew you were a wuss, but I didn't know you needed protection from bitty thing like Deirdre," Ripper laughs.

"Are we speaking of the same Deirdre, here, because I'm referring to the girl who just kicked your ass in our last summoning competition. She's scary."

"What, Ethan Raine accepting that there is another sorcerer better than him? Never!"

"I didn't say she was better than me, just better than you, which I always knew, actually. Now come on," the dark haired boy tries to grab the book from the bigger lad's hands. Ripper grins and pulls the book back sharply, causing Ethan to fall into his lap.

"I'm sure Deirdre wouldn't mind if we were a little late," he suggests coyly.

"Fine, but you're taking the heat this time," Ethan mock warns. Wrapping his arms around Ripper's neck, he buries his head in the shoulder of the watcher-in-training's black leather jacket. Ripper runs his hand through the mage's hair before pulling him up to kiss him. He fumbles at the dragonfly lamp beside him before turning it off.

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Laughing and attempting to straighten his silver satin shirt, Ethan rings Deirdre's door bell a full hour after the start of the dinner party. Deirdre opens the door and glares at the two late-comers.

"I see you finally decided to grace us with your presence. What were you doing, anyway?" she crosses her arms. Ethan grins.

"We were delayed, planning on letting us in?" he smirks.

"Not really, now what did you do?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

"It was all Ripper's fault, really—" Ethan begins.

"Oh shut up, Ethan, we all know it was you. Ripper actually has a sense of time. Get in here," she snaps, moving out of the way to let the boys in. Ripper laughs.


	3. Power

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, I'd be writing season 8.

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Power

"Ethan, god damn it, turn on the bloody light!" Deirdre Paige snapped at the mage in the dark living room.

"Hold on, pet. I'm trying to get there without smudging the pentagram. If you'd actually managed to light the candles we wouldn't be in the dark, would we?" Ethan replied testily. He flipped the switch on a random lamp and the room was bathed in a weak gold, green, and purple glow. Ethan studied the inlayed dragonflies for a moment before returning to the circle. He crawled back inside the pentagram as the other five resumed their places at the points of the star. Deirdre held a match to the candles.

"Can we start now?" Ripper asked, reaching to turn off the light.

"Better leave that on, Rip. The candles might go out and we don't want to lose control," Philip warned.

"Trying to kill me, love?" Ethan joked, trying to lighten the tense mood.

"Shut up, Ethan. Let's get started before the sun comes up, why don't we?" Deirdre sighed.

"Alright, we'll put you into a trance and then call the demon to possess you. Hopefully he doesn't rip your insides out," Ripper snaps, looking through the likely ancient tome in his lap.

"So not funny, Ripper love. How about we concentrate?" Ethan replies. Until now he had been fairly confident about the ritual. The tattoo work had been painful, but fun. The mage adored art but rarely had time for more than sketches with his rampant night life.

As Ripper and the others began chanting, Ethan slipped into unconsciousness. The candles flare an eerie green and highlight the gauntness of the motley crew. The chanting continued with no apparent result until the casters became slightly worried. Deirdre glanced at Ripper who just shook his head, telling her to be patient. The spell had to work. They'd prepared for days.

Suddenly Ethan started writhing in the middle of the pentagram. Ripper muttered a Latin binding spell and the casters leaned back to watch the demon, Eighon, possess their friend.

"Is he…in pain?" Randall asked in a whisper.

"Of course not, silly. He's just…getting used to it?" Deirdre replied hesitantly.

"That's not pain, that's ecstasy. I'm going next," Ripper declared.

"How do you know? I mean," Thomas said, "with that expression, it could easily be pain."

"And I say it's not," Ripper snapped, "We did the spell right. See, he's not writhing any more."

"No, he's just kind of lying there in the circle. I think we should break it," Deirdre said worriedly. "We did something wrong.

"We didn't. The power is just making him a little, you know, heady or something. There's no way this didn't work and there's no way we're stopping until we know it'll work for the rest of us. The book says we have to keep him in it for at least 15 minutes for it seriously depletes our magic reserves. I don't want to have to wait for a week or two to get this," Ripper snapped at the girl.

"You're just jealous Ethan got to go first. You want to experience the high! Why don't you go trip on some acid, _Rip_, and let us save our friend!" she cried.

"Oh, that's rich. Your friend? You can barely stand him, _Deir_, much less want to save him. You probably just want to cut it short for him!"

"Ripper, man, you're not making any sense. Let's stop this and let you cool down for a while," Philip tried to cool down his volatile companions.

"You're all just—" he broke off with an exasperated grunt. "Five more minutes, then it'll break automatically."

The five Londoners waited in a stressed silence for Ethan to awake from his trance. The candles returned to their normal ruddy glow and the magical sheen left the sorcerer's skin. Still, the boy just laid there in the circle.

"Ethan, are you alright?" Deirdre asked, turning on the lamp and crawling toward him.

"Worried about me, darling?" he laughed lightly.

"We though you were hurt," Randall whispered in relief.

"Far from it. That was bloody lovely. Who's next?" Ethan asked, sitting up.

"Ripper is, but not tonight," Deirdre answered coolly.

"Sure thing. To the streets, then? I'm a bit buzzed still," Ethan laughed.

"Yes, we can all tell by the idiotic grin on your face," Ripper snapped from his place on the floor.

"Ah, one of those nights, then. I'll be out, if you don't mind—" Ethan began.

"You shouldn't be out alone when you're like this. You're bad enough on regular drugs, but this is magic. Who knows what kind of low-lives you'll attract," Deirdre tutted.

"Love, I am a low-life, remember. It's one of the things I'm most proud of. I take it none of you are up for babysitting, then?" the chaos mage asked jovially.

"Sorry, mate. That spell may have buzzed you, but the tension wore us out," Thomas replied, yawning. The four who did not live in the little flat got up to leave. Deirdre pulled Ethan aside right before she left.

"Look, Ethan, he's in a really weird mood. If you want to stay with me and Philip until he cools off, we'd be happy to have you," she offered.

"Deirdre, pet, you'd kill me within five minutes of me being in your apartment. I'll be fine here. I know how to defend myself," Ethan laughed.

"Then why don't you ever? I'll come over in a day or two to find you nursing a black eye and bruised, if not broken, ribs. Ever since we started these higher magicks he's been really violent, especially toward you."

"I'm fine. He needs to vent his anger on someone, and I'm hardly an innocent,"

"You're innocent right now. You'll still be bruised for it. Do you think this is because of that Watcher that came by the other day? He's feeling especially rebellious?"

"No, he just doesn't want to hurt the innocent any more," Ethan sighed. "They're pressuring him."

"Ethan, you're innocent," the blonde woman reiterated.

"Hardly, love. You'd better run along now. Don't want to be left behind by your dear Philip," Ethan smiled but Deirdre never saw it reach his eyes.

The chaos mage turned around and attempted to sneak back into the back of the flat.

"Ethan, come here," Ripper demanded.

"Yes, love? Need something?" Ethan turned around, a mask of domestic bliss gracing his fox-like features.

"Going to bed already?" Ripper asked, beckoning him closer. "I though you were buzzed? I'll help you lose some steam."

"That's quite alright, Ripper love. I'll just be going to bed. It's probably better to sleep it off anyway," Ethan mentally hit himself for unconsciously drifting toward the angry man.

"Shut up, Ethan," Ripper snapped, grabbing his silk-clad arm and pulling him down onto the floor. "Let me taste some of that power."


End file.
